As I Lay Dying
by T'Pring
Summary: Is Sheppard doomed to die, over and over again for all time? Or can he solve the puzzle of the cursed planet before another bullet takes him...
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: Please, with all humility, forgive my insane audacity in naming this pathetic attempt at entertainment after the classic Faulkner novel! I mean only to play with the oddly relevant literal meaning of the phrase, and perhaps admit to a bit of foreshadowing of just how bizzare this tale is turning out to be for me. But don't get too worried, there are no maternal fish... yet._

_- Faulker forgive me (may he lay properly positioned within his casket...)  
_

_Your comments are appreciated, even if they only amount to... "huh?"  
_

* * *

The bullet slammed into his chest, the force of the impact throwing him backwards and off his feet. 

_A bullet?_ John Sheppard thought wryly. _I travel a billion miles from home using technology that makes the space shuttle look like a twirled stick and I get taken out by a bullet?_

His shoulders slammed into the dusty, hard-packed earth and the back of his head snapped down after, sending sparks of light into his vision and whiting out the mostly green landscape around him. He didn't feel anything like pain, yet, just the dull sensation of muffled impacts against his body, as if he were being pummelled while wearing a padded suit. His hearing faded too, the equally muffled shouts and screams around him glancing off his consciousness unregistered. For a long moment he just lay in an unfeeling, unseeing sprawl. His lazy thoughts skimmed from the benign to the absurd. At some point, he began to realize that the sparks were fading into ghostly black spots against a brilliant blue-white sky. The spots began to swim.

_What the hell? _Still relaxed in the shock-induced stupor, John willed the spots to stop dancing. _Oh, sure. I just need to breathe. That'll help._

_Fear! Panic! _ He couldn't breathe. He tried again to force his lungs to work, to draw in the oxygen his mind and his body were beginning to plead for with alarming insistence. He tried to turn his head, to look around for help, but his whole body betrayed him and his eyes remained locked on the blue above him. No force of will seemed to be able to move any muscles, twitch any nerves. A puffy cloud that looked like a stalking cat drifted by.

John lay suffocating in terror, unable to even blink, when the brightness of the sky was suddenly occluded by the stern, concerned face of Teyla Emmagan. He saw her lips move, form the syllable of his name, "John!" The sound of her voice -- fearful, panicky, controlled -- etched itself clearly and brightly into his mind. She fumbled at his vest zipper, yanked down hard on the cold metal. She already held an untwisted field bandage in her hand and John watched her slap the absorbent pad into his chest. His silent, motionless chest.

_Oh...shit. _A half-remembered lesson drifted through his again-wandering consciousness. CPR: If no respiration, check for pulse. If no pulse, do you check for respiration? It was a trick question. No pulse No respiration. Period. When the heart stops, everything stops. _Trick question, Teyla. Trick question. Trick..._

Teyla held the pad firmly in place, dug her fingers into John's neck, then flung herself into position over him, flexing her elbows and pressing firmly into his chest with rhythmic compressions. John could feel the movement, but only as a dull vibration. Like the feeling of thunder through your feet from a distant, muggy thunderstorm. A device was placed over his mouth, Teyla paused and John felt air forced into the lungs he couldn't force to move on his own.

For an instant the fresh oxygen delighted the wounded cells of the lungs so long at rest. Then they screamed with the first felt pain as nerves deadened by neglect were suddenly revived.

Pain consumed him. Teyla's forceful thrusts bit into his mind, each compression a new expression of torture. Each artificial breath prolonged and fed the agony. The still-swimming ghostly dots began to collect and merge, sticking to the edges of the blue sky and Teyla's face centered in his sight. _Stop! Stop! Stop! _John screamed the words in his mind. The shouts were so loud they almost drowned out the same words that finally came from another voice close to his ear.

"Stop."

Teyla shook her head, continued compression after agonizing compression. John saw tears spill down her cheek.

"He's right, Teyla. You need to stop. There's no... there's no point. Just look at him."

Teyla finally turned her face to John's. She finally met his eyes.

_Stop, _his mind whispered. She stopped, her eyes remaining locked with his, her face framed by the blackness that continued to grow at the edges.

The pain eased as the wounded nerves again quickly deadened from oxygen deprivation. John felt the stillness, the utter peacefulness of his body and was suddenly afraid, but Teyla held him in her gaze and the fear lessoned. In that moment before his death, John believed everything he'd ever heard about being able to see one's soul through one's eyes. He read Teyla's every thought, saw her sorrow, her fury, her indomitable will that would carry her through.

_Thank you, John. Your life has touched me more than any other soul I have known._

_Teyla! I wish... I wish I had gone out fighting. _The regret spilled into his own eyes.

_You feel that the manner of your death is what gives your life meaning? You are wrong. Your life has meant more than you can possibly know. That is not what you regret, John Sheppard._

_I regret dying._

_Your spirit will live to fight again._

_I wish I could believe that..._

_You do._

John's vision was only a pinprick of light. Teyla's face finally moved from the center and all he saw was blue sky, then utter black.


	2. Chapter 2

John Sheppard stepped out of the shimmering Stargate, took a single, deliberate step further and planted his hands on his hips. With a deep relaxed breath he scanned the perimeter, squinting in the bright clear sunshine, and then turned his head slightly at the splut of sound behind him. He didn't turn, but he knew immediately that Rodney McKay had emerged. It didn't take any supernatural instincts to recognize the incessant muttering that accompanied the man's presence. Another splut deposited two figures, and John tugged his sunglasses from his pocket to situate them neatly over his light hazel eyes. Ronon and Teyla joined him on either side, taking their own careful survey of the new landscape they were exploring. 

Another planet, another eerily familiar environment. John almost shuddered at the by-now-expected feeling of discomfort he experienced each time a new world felt too...normal. He was an entire galaxy away from Earth, millions of light years, even, from Atlantis that was, lately, beginning to feel more like home than anywhere on Earth ever had. It just wasn't _right_ that this place should be here. A little piece of Earth, so far from Earth, was simply laughable.

_At least that damn planet with the psychotic super-wraith had offered some variety, _he thought, trying to shake off the unease. _Week-long days and nights, glow bugs... That planet had the guts to act Alien!_

Rodney wandered around in little circles, pointing his hand scanner this way and that as John refocused his attention on the offending surroundings. The Stargate sat in a wide meadow surrounded by, guess what, richly forested hillsides, making him feel like a little dollop of meat in a bowl of vegetation. The wide, hard-packed road that led away from the Stargate towards a tunnel through the forest vegetation offered sharp, brown contrast to the overwhelming green. It also indicated habitation, as he'd never yet met a road that had ground itself into existence.

"Teyla?" His quiet question brought her closer. "You recognize this place yet? Any of your people been here before?"

"No, I do not think so," she replied after another moment of consideration. "The symbols were not familiar, and I do not recognize this unusual type of flower." She knelt to prod, with gentle fingers, a delicate purple blossom that folded up at her touch only to pop open again a moment after her hand was removed.

"Uh." John grunted, feeling a little bit better. He had little interest in flowers, but the odd blooms went a little way towards making this place feel a little more unique. "Let's go find out what we can, then. Elizabeth still wants a beta site. Maybe these folks will be the friendly type that don't mind campers on their doorstep now and again."

He looked at the path before him, surprised at the reluctance he felt in moving forward. Deciding that he just needed to push through whatever was disturbing him, he took point and with a sloppy wave, gestured his team to follow. To his surprise, Rodney was closest on his heels, for once so engrossed in his readings he remained remarkably silent. After about 10 steps, the silence became unnerving and John swiveled in his tracks. "What!" he blurted out, waving his arms as he continued their ground chewing pace.

McKay jerked his head up, startled, then looked around as if unsure of whom Sheppard was speaking to. "What, 'what'?"

"_What_ whatever has got you so interested in a damn meadow!"

McKay rolled his eyes, "Is there any reason I _shouldn't_ be interested in it?"

"You hate field work!"

"Now that's not true!" Rodney was immediately defensive, and the very faint tone of hurt in his voice nudged Sheppard's conscience. "I tend to enjoy most of our missions away from Atlantis. Those that don't involve certain death or certain boredom that is. The Pegasus galaxy has benefited greatly from my presence." He sniffed importantly, and tried to return to his readings. At Sheppard's long, piercing stare, however, Rodney's mouth twitched and he added in a rush, "Ok, I'll admit I'm not usually very fond of field work in actual fields."

"So?" Sheppard found himself uncharacteristically annoyed by the banter he usually enjoyed.

"So...what?"

John tried another tactic, forcing down the urge to slap McKay up the back of his head. "So...Are you reading anything? Any power-flux-capacitor signatures or swarms of flying monkeys heading our way?"

"No. Nothing unusual at all. Nothing remotely interesting. Not...a bit...odd." Rodney's voice trailed off as he got lost in the readings again as they continued walking towards the tree line. Another swell of unease flooded John's chest.

"_What_, Rodney?" John's voice was no longer annoyed, but softly anxious and coaxing.

McKay shrugged. "It just seems familiar here. I keep having the odd feeling that I've scanned this place before."

John stopped walking. "Are you sure there's nothing here?" He looked at the forest just ahead. The path leading into the trees seemed dim and gloomy from the warm bright sunshine of the meadow.

"Nothing," McKay replied confidently, if a bit reluctantly. "The village we picked up on the UAV flyby is still too far away for this device to detect yet."

John stood squinting down the path for several long moments. Teyla and Ronon gathered close, curious at the pause, but waiting patiently for whatever he might decide. John was not by nature a superstitious man, but he had also learned to trust his own gut feelings on matters of safety.

"All right. Keep your eyes open people." He shouldered his P-90 into a crisp, ready position and began to stalk along the path again. Ronon and Teyla exchanged a puzzled look, but also readied their weapons and followed.

The wary group was a few yards from the edge of the forest's borders when John just barely hesitated again. In the fraction of a second he slowed his already cautious pace, he lowered his weapon an inch or two to turn his head towards McKay, planning to ask for one more scan before they walked under the shadows.

The bullet slammed into his chest, the force of the impact throwing him backwards and off his feet.

_Oh, crap, _he thought. _I hate it when I'm right about this stuff._

His shoulders slammed into the dusty, hard-packed earth and the back of his head snapped down after, sending sparks of light into his vision and whiting out the mostly green landscape around him. The fall knocked the wind out of him, and in that moment of unnatural silence, he could hear shouting and gunfire around him. T_eyla and Ronon laying down cover fire, _he thought with some satisfaction. McKay's voice surfaced above the noise.

"The shooter's in the trees! The bullet came from a higher trajectory. Shoot up! Shoot up!"

_Ok, not the most accurate command language, but McKay's certainly getting a lot better at this type of thing. _At last, his stunned breathing reflex reset and John took a welcome, gasping breath. The moment of relief was quickly replaced by sheer agony as his damaged chest and lungs protested the very motion of breathing itself. The hard-won inhale fought its way out of John's throat in a growling howl of pain. The next breath seared even more deeply into his mind, and his vision greyed out for a moment.

"McKay, stay with Sheppard." John felt the tremors of a heavy set of feet pounding away towards the forest. And, although her footsteps were as light as rain itself, John sensed that Teyla was also in pursuit of the enemy that had just ruined his whole day. A shadow fell across his eyelids, and John squeezed his eyes shut even tighter and tried to roll his face into the cool grass. He realized his hands were clutched to his chest and that he was pressing against himself in a useless attempt to ease the agony of merely breathing. For some reason the hands felt slippery and warm.

"Hold still, Colonel. I'm just going to, um, bandage you up here." Rodney's voice was shaky and high-pitched, but the hands that John felt on his shoulder were firm, reassuring.

McKay pushed John onto his back, then suddenly gasped a startled, "Oh...no." Even through his tightly closed eyes, John could almost see Rodney flinch as he caught his first full sight of the extent of the damage. "Well, now. About that bandage." Rodney's voice rose another step or two. John thrashed his head, feeling his lungs fill with blood and his breaths grow shallower. He felt McKay pry his hands away from his chest, and felt the pressure of his friend's hands against the source of the penetrating agony. John moaned, then coughed violently, wrenching out of Mckay's grasp, and curled into a ball on his side. A sharp metallic taste curled his lips into a grimace.

_At least the last time the damn bullet had the courtesy to pretty much kill me instantly._ John finally realized his own thought, then added _Huh? Where the hell did that come from?_ Before he could think any more, he became aware of Rodney insistently yapping at his shoulder, his words tumbling out so rapidly that Sheppard dully began to wonder when the man would take a breath.

"Sheppard! Listen, I know you think you outrank me and all that military chain of command crap. And I'm certainly the last person you'd ever take any advice from. But I do know a few things about medicine from my experience in dealing with my own many personal medical issues, so I happen to think it would really help if you could stop writhing around and let me deal with that wound! I'm pretty sure even Carson would agree that the amount of blood you are losing is not...healthy." At that, McKay's voice cracked and John felt him wipe away a trickle of warmth from the corner of his mouth with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the forced bite of his words.

But John made no effort to roll over again or allow Rodney to address the wound any further. He could feel his air becoming shallower with each ragged breath. His heart raced with a weakening flutter as it vainly tried to re-pressurize his damaged vascular system, instead only pumping out the vital fluid all the more quickly. John Sheppard knew he was bleeding out, and he knew how little time he had left. With the realization came a kind of uneasy accpetance. He felt lightheaded and dizzy, but with a massive effort, John forced open his eyes and rolled his head enough to catch Rodney's face.

"McKay..." he croaked, the sound barely a ragged whisper. Involuntarily, McKay turned at the sound and his eyes locked on John's, reacting with shocked hurt to the wounded man's silent confession.

"Sheppard, please don't..." The words were quietly pleading. John saw fear, sorrow, and a deeply buried compassion in the often arrogant scientist's eyes.

_Don't really want to. Damn sniper insisted, though. We're... we're good, right?_

Rodney's eyes widened in surprise and swelling grief as he recognized his own words returning to him. _Yeah! Of course. We're good._

The dizzyness grew even more disorienting, and John's vision began to swim. With a rising fear John suddenly experienced a flash of insight, and reached blindly to grab at McKay's arm, leaving bloody streaks on the man's jacket sleeve and yet, fiercely maintaining his gaze. _McKay! This is wrong. Something is wrong._

_You're dying! Of course that's wrong! That's the atomic bomb of wrong, the holocaust of wrong. This whole damn thing is very very wrong!_

_No. More than that. You felt it too... Been here, done this before. Don't...want...to do...it...again._ McKay's eyes narrowed in careful consideration and John could read the crackling flow of intellect as his brilliant friend took hold of John's half-formed idea and began to process it.

Somewhat satisfied and no longer able to fight the pain, John closed his eyes and trembled, waiting for the rest of his life to drain away. A choking, drowning sensation seized him soon after and he gasped and spluttered for air that would not come. He felt his shoulders being lifted gently, a strong arm supporting his head, and the sensation of drowning eased a little. Somehow he knew that Teyla and Ronon had returned. A gentle pressure in his ears began to expand into a pillow of suffocating blackness. Feebly squeezing the hand that held his, one last time, he sank slowly into the numbness and knew no more.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's note: Another chapter, a few more clues. _

John Sheppard stepped out of the shimmering Stargate, took a single, deliberate step further and planted his hands on his hips. With a deep relaxed breath he scanned the horizon, squinting in the bright clear sunshine, and then turned his head slightly at the _splut_ of sound behind him. Rodney McKay emerged, muttering as usual, and moved to stand off to Sheppard's right. The air seemed warm and lazy, like a heavy summer afternoon, and a hot breeze ruffled the funny little purple flowers at John's feet. The delicate blooms folded up in waves as the gentle gusts bent their stems, then popped open again once the wind had scurried on to other mischief.

For some reason, the dancing plants brought a puzzled frown to John's brow and he chewed on his bottom lip as he tugged his sunglasses out of their pocket, situating them neatly over his light hazel eyes. John was watching McKay wave his hand scanner around in unusually quiet immersion when the scientist suddenly stiffened in silent alarm. He jerked his head towards John. In that same instant, a cold vice of terror simultaneously clamped down within John's chest. For a brief moment, their eyes locked…remembering.

Teyla and Ronon emerged only seconds later to find both men frozen in alert tension, weapons drawn and watching the perimeter warily. With a startled glance between them, the two Pegasus natives also drew their weapons and joined the survey of the surrounding, peaceful, meadow.

Several tense seconds of silence passed. Ignoring Teyla's pointedly puzzled looks, Sheppard jerked his head towards McKay and growled, "You feel it too?"

"That poignant sense of déjà vu on steroids? Oh, yeah."

Sheppard felt a sudden urge to rub his chest that was suddenly tingling with a mysterious ache. He kept his hands tightly wrapped around his weapon instead. "So, what do you think? What's going on here?"

McKay wagged his sidearm in nervous circles as he answered, "Can't really be sure. Some kind of time loop maybe? Ancients messing around with a variation of the time dilation field perhaps. Wouldn't be the first time they screwed this kind of thing up!"

"Goddam Groundhog Day all over again? Isn't that plot getting just a little bit trite by now!"

"We don't actually know that is what's going on here..." Rodney trailed off though, seemingly at a loss to make any alternative suggestions.

A few more moments of edgy silence ticked by when Teyla finally asked hesitantly, "What exactly is the problem?"

John tabled the question for the moment, asked his own question in return, "Teyla, you're usually pretty sensitive to this kind of thing. Do you remember being here before?"

"I do." Ronon's deep-throated interjection startled Rodney.

"Really? Well now, that's surprising." Ronon scowled, looking as if he wasn't sure if had just been insulted. John almost chuckled as he watched the Satedan finally decide to give McKay the benefit of the doubt – this time.

Ronon shrugged, "Treeline looks familiar, I recognize the way the path enters the forest. I can tell you it's exactly 69 paces to the edge of the meadow…" his voice trailed off with a puzzled expression that John understood completely. Ronon knew all those things, but he couldn't remember _how_ he knew them. Even for John, the sudden, overpowering certainty that he'd been here before and that something terrible had happened was fading. Small details he'd held so clearly in his mind were slipping away from him like sand through his fingers.

His gut-aching sense of dread was not any less pronounced, however and Sheppard suddenly dropped his P-90 against his chest and strode off towards the nearby DHD. "Teyla," he answered her original question at last, "the problem is this whole damn place and we're leaving." Ronon followed, a step to the left, reacting to the unconscious unease by assuming a proper military escort. John did chuckle this time, his friend's wary presence at his side reassuring him slightly. He reached for the glowing symbols on the device in front of him.

Rodney was nodding in relieved agreement to Sheppard's course of action, but he took a step closer to Teyla who was watching Sheppard with careful concern. "Something bad happened here. Or is going to happen, depending on how you parse the tenses. If we are dealing with a time loop, Sheppard's right, we need to leave. This kind of temporal manipulation is almost certainly a local phenomenon."

Teyla squinted into the blue, cloudless sky and murmured softly over the singsong whine of the Stargate as John punched in the first symbol, "We were to arrive only hours after dawn. This sun is high, just past midday…"

"What?" Rodney snapped out of his lecture to stare intently at Teyla. John, who habitually kept his mind attuned to his whole team at once, paused for a fraction of a second before touching the next symbol, recognizing the signs of an important revelation in McKay's posture.

The bullet slammed into John's back, the force of the impact throwing him forward to sprawl against the DHD. Several keys were mashed at once, and the device, in a display of electronic befuddlement, blinked wildly for a moment, then fell dark, the Stargate following suit.

_I really, really hate this _planet, thought John, as he slid slowly down, grasping spasmodically at the edges.

When his knees hit the ground, he couldn't decide to be grateful for or terrified by the fact that he felt nothing of the impact against his knees. His whole body, from the shoulders down, was numb and lifeless. He quickly sagged to the side and felt strong but rough hands snatch for his shoulders to ease him into a, basically, seated position. John couldn't quite claim to be sitting up as his full weight was resting against Ronon's thigh and torso. He gulped for air, fighting down the temptation to simply close his eyes and allow himself to pass out.

Instead, he blinked and squinted up at the silhouetted face above him. Ronon was staring intently at the treeline, managing to assume a posture that was both protective and deadly. The warrior's whole frame almost quivered with the desire to chase after the threat, to hunt down and exact revenge on the enemy that dared strike at one of his own.

"Ronon…"

John croaked out the word between shallow fast breaths then, grimacing, pressed a hand into his chest where the lingering ache had sharpened into a pulsing spike of pain. He coughed a little, no more than a gurgling wheeze, then tried again. "Ronon!" His hand against his chest felt warm and slippery.

Finally, reluctantly, Ronon turned his face, but his anguished brown eyes wouldn't quite meet John's. _You big idiot. It's not like I'm going to dump a load of sappy crap on you._ But, it was enough.

"Ronon. Sniper is in the trees. Long range weapon firing heavy ordinance." Sheppard's clipped analysis was barely more than raspy panting, but Ronon was listening carefully and nodding in professional agreement. John raised his bloody hand from his chest to gaze at with detached appreciation. "Bastard's good too. A single kill shot from that distance is impressive."

John just barely caught a glimpse of enraged grief flash over Ronon's face at the term _kill shot_ before he replied with gruff emotion, "Not good enough. He didn't kill us both." John actually grinned as Ronon suddenly realized what he'd just said and watched with amusement as the man's eagerness to begin his quest for revenge warred with the awkwardness of offering a more comforting sentiment.

McKay and Teyla saved Ronon from the moment by clattering up to them in that instant. Teyla was already digging in her pocket to yank out a field compress. Rodney hovered in a nearby squat, nervously keeping the DHD between himself and the distant forest while still trying to stay close enough to watch the activity around John. Ronon, his glare again locked on the treeline, was already pulling his teeth back into a gleeful snarl and shifting to hand John over to Teyla when John's hand shot out to yank hard on Ronon's collar.

"Dammit, Ronon," the plea was strained as the spike in his chest suddenly shot down both arms and he gasped. Ronon paused, Sheppard's desperate urgency holding him back far more than the feeble fist on his shirt. "I'm telling you this because you have to remember…next time." McKay and Teyla exchanged a look and Ronon slowly, finally met John's eyes.

_You have to remember, Ronon. You have to help me stop it next time because…because I really don't want to do this again._ The ache in John's chest was swelling, and he could almost feel his damaged heart quiver into arrhythmic confusion. Teyla slapped the absorbent dressing into the sopping puddle on his chest, simply shoving the bandage under the vest's edge rather than bothering to unzip it.

_Sheppard, my brother, you will be avenged. _

John regarded Ronon for a long moment. He saw the fresh grief standing out bright against the many other scars and wounds on the man's soul. But John was, himself, beginning to fear more than his death that would claim him in the next few moments.

He was beginning to fear that he'd rather die forever than have to die _again._ His fear must have slipped into his eyes because Ronon's lingering snarl softened into a more encouraging expression.

"I will remember Sheppard." Ronon spoke the words out loud on behalf of all of them.

"We all will." McKay's quick affirmation brought the smile back to John's lips and it remained, in defiant permanence, as his body seized into stiff agony, and his life slipped away.

* * *

John Sheppard stepped out of the shimmering Stargate, took a single, deliberate step further and planted his hands on his hips. With a deep relaxed breath he scanned the horizon, squinting in the bright clear sunshine, and then turned his head slightly at the _splut_ of sound behind him. Rodney McKay emerged, muttering as usual, and moved to stand off to Sheppard's right. Their two shadows stretched out long before them, and John twisted to look back over his shoulder at the glowing orange orb that peeked out just above the rim of the still shimmering 'gate. The ground at John's feet was dewey and cool, despite the growing warmth of the air, and the pale blue sky had a crystal freshness about it. 

Another _splut_ announced the arrival of Telya and Ronon, and John tugged in his pocket for his sunglasses. As he lifted the shades up to cover his light hazel eyes, John suddenly frowned, looking closely at the familiar circles of colored glass with something like dread. A few steps away, McKay was muttering to his palm scanner and saying something like, "Are you sure we've never been to this planet before? I just had the craziest feeling of Déjà vu…"

At the innocent words, Ronon suddenly stiffened into a catlike crouch and jerked his head towards Sheppard. In that same instant, a cold vice of terror simultaneously clamped down within John's chest. For a brief moment, their eyes locked…remembering.

The next thing John knew, Ronon was pelting down the dusty brown road towards the treeline with the speed and power of a locomotive. Not really thinking himself, John leaped out after, shouting a hasty command over his shoulder, "McKay, dial the damn 'gate back home. Teyla, watch his 6, there's a sniper in the trees with enough range to reach the DHD." Rodney and Teyla stood frozen for several heartbeats, then snapped out of the stupor of confused memory and surprised response enough to start moving where they'd been directed.

John was just passing the DHD himself when he threw a look at the device, checking to make sure it seemed in working order, the instinct to evaluate all routes of escape coming as second nature. He stumbled to an abrupt halt, swallowing hard at what he saw. A suffocating swell of panic clutched at him and he found himself gasping from more than exertion. Forcing himself to move again, he turned to race off after Ronon, shouting back at McKay as he hit his stride.

"McKay. Turns out we're not dealing with a time loop after all! See what you can do." And then he was gone, willing the terror into adrenaline, and closing the gap between himself and the treeline with catlike speed…

McKay frowned at John's audacious assertion. While Rodney couldn't yet prove they actually were caught in a temporal event, and his memories of other "loops" were admittedly foggy and confused, he also hadn't yet come up with another theory that fit the circumstances. Rolling his eyes haughtily, (after watching worriedly after his friends disappearing into the meadow for a moment), he stepped briskly around to the front of the DHD device, certain at least that Sheppard had the "Run away home" part correct.

And like Sheppard, Rodney froze at his first glimpse of the Ancient panel.

The glowing keys were spattered in a thick spray of blackened, dried blood. One key near the top of the roughly oval board was dark and cracked. Despite his overwhelming urge to flinch away from the grisly image, he leaned closer to inspect the damage. A flattened and shattered bullet lay embedded into, but not through the key's outer cover. _At least that's not one of the symbols we need._ The thought drifted through McKay's mind, arguably comforting.

Teyla joined him, resting her hand on Rodney's arm in reaction. "That looks like…" she couldn't continue.

"What the DHD looked like…the _last_ time Sheppard died."

_TBC... and now it can get interesting._


	4. Chapter 4

John's feet pounded on the hard-packed earth to the time of his racing heart. He carried his P-90 lightly in his right hand, his fingers curled around the trigger and the safeties already disengaged. Ahead of him, Ronon's ungainly lope still moved the large man forward at terrific speed, and John saw that he had his own large hand weapon balanced lightly against his palm, the muzzle loosely aimed upwards towards the canopy of the fast approaching forest. John suddenly had a flashback of Rodney screaming "Shoot up, shoot up!" Adjusting his own muzzle, he slowed his pace a bit in uncertainty.

_What the hell am I doing? If there's a sniper still in there, we're sitting ducks out here in the open!_ John's shadow remained fixedly in his path, a shaky companion, determined to outrace him to the meadow's edge. A small grim smile appeared as John recognized the slight advantage. _The sun will be in the sniper's face._

The trees grew near enough to distinguish individual plants and branches and the forest floor underneath the gloomy canopy was thick with undergrowth. John realized that Ronon must have slowed down too, because he was catching the faster man up. A glint of metal and a slight movement drew John's combat-alert gaze to a spot just South of where the path burned its tunnel through the leafy growth. Ronon saw it too and locked his aim, pinching off a blast of red-hot energy even before Sheppard had a chance to bring his other hand to bear on the barrel of his own weapon.

The bullet slammed into his shoulder, the impact spinning him to the ground in an ungraceful twirl to land with bruising force on his hands and knees. He quickly rolled up again, and raced even faster for the tree line, ingrained training taking over and compelling him towards cover. Ronon had already disappeared within the shadowy sanctuary.

_Who the hell has got it in for ME? _thought John with disgust, realizing that Ronon had been the closer and more threatening target. But even as he shuddered with the insight, he felt a kind of bizarre glee creep into his mind. _He missed this time. Goddam shoulder hurts like hell, but the bastard missed his kill shot… _

His left shoulder did hurt like hell, and he gritted his teeth against the line of fire that tracked from the widening puddle of dampness spreading through his shirt under his heavy vest to the slight grinding sensation in his shoulder blade. Pushing aside the pain for the moment, though, reveling in the knowledge that the wound was _only_ a nuisance, he made the trees at last and threw himself into a thick patch of undergrowth just off the path. He landed in a quiet crouch, his weapon scanning the area in front of him along with his careful gaze. All seemed quiet for the moment.

"Ronon?" Sheppard decided to risk a quiet shout, then braced himself to move quickly if the call had given him away.

"Yeah, over here, Sheppard. We're clear."

With an exhausted sigh, John staggered to his feet and was then able to spot the restless form of his companion. Ronon seemed to be pacing over something just beneath a large fir-like tree that rose towering tall overlooking the meadow.

"You get the sniper?" John asked as he jogged, slowly, over.

"Yeah. I guess I got…a couple of them?" Ronon's voice was oddly harsh and his face was darkly unreadable as he looked up at John's approach. His eyes widened in angry surprise, "And he still got you!"

"Nah," John shrugged off the implied concern, then grimaced as he realized that shrugging was a really stupid thing to do right now. "He missed." John stared into Ronon's face until the agitated warrior's gaze met his. "Thanks." Ronon understood. "What was that about a couple of them? There were two in the tree?" John added, having to step around a large clump of some thorny bush just between them.

Ronon only shook his head and waved at the ground by his feet. John finally drew close enough and sucked in a shocked breath. Three dead men lay at the tree's foot. One was obviously the shooter that Ronon had – just? – shot out of the branches, the wound from Ronon's weapon was still oozing dark blood, and his limp form was twisted at an odd angle from his recent fall. The other two men had been dead for longer, perhaps a day or two even. They were all dressed similarly, in simple hunting clothing that would have resembled the Athosian style of dress if the tailoring hadn't been so shoddy and the material so roughly bland.

John turned away in disgust seeing all he needed. His shoulder started to ache with a petulant insistence and the anxiety that had lessoned a bit after surviving the sniper's shot returned with slamming intensity. At a loss to do anything but resort again to his training, John flipped up his first aid pocket and fumbled out a pressure bandage while Ronon dropped into a crouch by the bodies.

"This one also took some bullets -- looks like P-90 fire. Teyla got him." Ronon paused and John could hear him scuffling in the dry leaves. John wedged the compress into his seeping wound, counting on the weight of the vest to hold it in place, and simply hoping it was enough pressure to do any good.

"Only one weapon around here. A primitive rifle, no scope, lead rounds." Ronon went on, standing again to bring the gun over to show Sheppard. "There is no way this gun could have fired that shot from here to the DHD."

John barely glanced at it. Nothing seemed to make sense any more. There was no time loop, but events were repeating. The sniper –snipers?- couldn't have made the shot to the DHD that both John and Ronon remembered. John rubbed his chest unconsciously. And why the hell hadn't McKay picked up anyone sitting perched on a tree branch before?? Surely he'd asked McKay to scan for life signs? He thought he remembered asking McKay about just that?

Suddenly decisive, he spun on his heel towards the path.

"I really don't fucking care. Let's just get the hell out of here." John gingerly reached for his radio, sending silent thanks that the bullet had missed the transmitter's pocket – that would have _really _stung - and trying not to move his shoulders too much in the process. "McKay, you got the 'gate open?"

There was no reply, only the soft hiss of an open channel. With sudden tense alertness, Sheppard and Ronon exchanged a startled glace. Ronon quickly grabbed for his own radio.

"Teyla, do you read?"

Both men were moving with haste even before the continuing silence confirmed that something, else, was very very wrong. John exploded out of the underbrush onto the path, his aches forgotten, his weapon again sitting at the ready in his hands. He paused for only the briefest of moments to scan the path in both directions, then turned towards the beacon of bright sunshine glowing into the gloom from the bright meadow.

Only a stumbling step or two later, John froze and snapped his weapon high into full readiness, sweeping the muzzle across the road in front of him. A cold trickle of sweat slid down his back. His heart was racing, and he panted through his mouth in an attempt to control his breath enough to keep his aim steady. Something, someone was on the path in front of him. He was certain of it. The feeling of a presence was palpable – and terrifying.

"Ronon!" John called over his shoulder, his voice a harsh rasp. His hands clasped his weapon even more tightly at the lingering silence. "RONON!" The bellow was thick with panic. He risked a glance behind him and confirmed that the Satedan, who'd been only a step behind him in the forest was no longer in view.

He was all alone.

* * *

_Siren_ stood on the path and watched the man before her freeze with awareness of her presence. She felt his fear and his strength of will that forced the fear aside. She was surprised that he could sense her, and she hummed to herself with pleasure. He was providing the most entertainment she had enjoyed in thousands of years. He was, perhaps, the most delightful mortal she'd ever dallied with. 

She reached for his mind to feel the pain of his wound and laughed as he flinched from the touch, mastering the pain within his own mind and rebuffing her with instinctive strength that amused her. He was strong, and yet, oh so delightfully human.

_Siren_ herself had never been mortal like most of her kind. The creation of new life was forbidden to those like her, but her parents had defied the others and _Siren_ had come to be. Perhaps, she thought, touching the man's mind again to be able to feel his increasing fear, this was how she had inherited her own streak of defiance.

"Show yourself!" The man called towards her, turning his head as she walked around him. He had good senses, this one. She laughed again as he came to a sudden decision and fired his weapon at her. She reached out with a finger of air to direct one of the powerful bullets towards a thick nearby tree trunk. The smoldering bit of metal ricocheted, and with another nudge, skimmed across the man's forehead, leaving a streak of red as it passed through delicate skin. The man jerked, stumbling to his knees, and slapped a hand over the sting.

_Siren_ hummed again.

"What have you done with Ronon?" The man was still looking warily around, his fresh fear interfering with his sense of her, but, despite his shaking hands and constricted throat, he was still in control of himself. _Siren_'s consciousness flicked to the motionless form of the other man she held bound in a tight web of atmosphere just beyond the path. _A brother to this one_, she thought. Perhaps she would dally with him next when she tired of this one…

"Where are McKay and Teyla?" The others at the portal -- one a mismatched friend, the other a sister…or something more that the man himself wouldn't even admit. A flare of jealously swirled through her and she flung a blast of air at the Stargate, tumbling the two into the grass, even as she continued holding them tightly bound. She dove into the man's mind again to revel in his terror for the friends he held dear above himself. He fought the invasion, the battle itself delightfully painful.

He suffered so beautifully, this one did. She caressed him with a gentle breeze, then sighed. But his stubbornness was wearying, his tendency to master his own fear was downright disappointing. Her hunter had missed the vital shot she desired, even with her help. She had already called another hunter to her -- she spared a moment for disgust at the villagers who's minds were so weak she could control them directly -- and she stepped back from the man, her eagerness rising as she waited.

The man rose shakily to his feet, feeling her withdraw. He glanced once down the path towards her village, then bolted for the meadow. _Siren_ laughed, feeling him muster his resolve, feeling his fear melting into hot anger at her manipulation. She almost quivered with anticipation.

The man had almost reached the sunlight beyond her forest when she allowed her hunter to miss his first shot. The vacant puppet of a villager dumbly fumbled with his weapon and began to reload. The man whirled at the sound, his own weapon steady and sure despite the ache in his shoulder and the blood he blinked out of his eyes from the ricochet. The man fired at her hunter in short, deadly-accurate bursts.

_Oh no! Siren_ giggled gleefully, waving the bullets away with a gust of her hand. _Your friends have already destroyed too many of my hunters already! Their wives will feel the pinch of hunger… and I do not enjoy the flavor of hunger._

The man froze with surprise at the impossibility of his miss just as the hunter dully raised his weapon up again. The bullet exploded out of the gun and _Siren_ focused a column of air, guiding and compelling the lead forward faster and farther than the weapon alone was capable of propelling it.

The bullet slammed into his chest, the force of the impact throwing him backwards and off his feet. The man's shoulders ploughed into the dusty, hard-packed earth and the back of his head snapped down after, sending sparks of light into his vision and whiting out the mostly green landscape around him. _Siren_ shrieked with joy at the flood of agony and despair pouring from him. She felt her own power surge as she fed upon his terror.

Surprised at the strength of her own reactions to this man, who pleased her far past any expectation, she daringly formed herself into a corporeal body, clothed in white, molding her face from a collage of images in the man's mind that she knew he would find pleasing. She knelt beside his stiffly arched body and smoothed his dark hair back from his bloody forehead.

_Siren_ had taken her name from his mind the first time she'd felt his presence on her planet. The name represented a beautiful creature from his homeworld. A creature he considered myth, who lured sea men to their deaths against razor sharp rocks. The image greatly appealed to her. The man had once named a mechanical bird after this Siren of myth, so it was a name he also cherished. Perhaps one of her kind had visited his planet, she thought, stroking his hair again. Her mother would have enjoyed that sport.

The man's glazed eyes held no recognition of her presence and as he slowly relaxed into death, she hummed to him. Just before his life winked out, she thought she just barely caught a flicker of something in the man's eyes, recognition perhaps, or was it an anguished plea? No matter.

Still humming with pleasure, she gathered her thoughts on holding the man over the knife-edge of death, then readied herself to drag him back over the threshold. _Siren_ sent a shower of spring rain over the meadow and down the path to wash away the blood she hadn't bothered to clean up before. Then, still concentrating most of her energy on repairing the man's body, she sent a hot wind to dry the meadow.

Fretting with impatience to begin again, she cursed the realization that the man took longer to heal each time, and half remembered a lesson her mother had taught her about the fragility of mortal flesh. While she was waiting, she decided to concentrate more effort on the man's companions. She had some delightful new ideas for how she wanted to play with the man …the next time.


	5. Chapter 5

_Siren finished her preparations and set the stage for her playing. Once all was ready to her impatient standards, she withdrew far enough away that the man and his companions wouldn't feel her presence. Caressing him one last time, she loosened her hold on their minds…_

John Sheppard stepped out of the shimmering Stargate, took a single, deliberate step further and quickly raised a shaking hand to cover his eyes. The hot, glowing sun sat low over the forest directly before the 'gate, sending blinding light into his face. With a sharp intake of breath he scanned the horizon, squinting into the glare, and turned with an agitated jerk at the splut of sound behind him. Rodney McKay emerged, fiddling with his hand scanner and muttering.

_Siren giggled and cloaked her hunter from the scanning device with a single thought. _

"OK, so there's no time loop, but I'm 100 sure, now, there's a bad guy here messing with us. Is there any way to scan for other kinds of life forms?" John pounced on the startled scientist, his voice tight with desperate control.

"What are you on about Sheppard? We just got here." Shrugging off John's stunned expression, Rodney moved to wander further from the shimmering portal, still waving his instrument. In the intervening seconds, Teyla and Ronon also stepped out of the 'gate, raising their own hands against the sun, to take their usual position on either side of their confused commander.

Swallowing hard, and hoping McKay's memory would be jolted by the usual déjà vu soon, John turned to Ronon instead. "There's no point in chasing the sniper down again. I felt something else the last time, and I'm pretty sure there's more going on here than…pissed off…villagers…" John's voice trailed off at Ronon's puzzled look. The warrior had tensed and brought his weapon higher at John's urgency, but he flicked his eyes at Teyla, the question in their depths clear.

"We just got here, Sheppard. You've spotted trouble already?"

John took a deep breath, trying to calm a growing sense of panic. John's recollection of dying, again, alone on the path in the forest was crystal clear. It felt like it had happened only moments ago, and yet at the same time, every memory he had of any time before the last handful of minutes felt surreal and dream-like. Nightmarish, was perhaps more accurate.

_Siren hummed to herself, pleased by the panic her extra effort was triggering. _

John suddenly shuddered, a full-body, chilled-to-the-spine shiver of dread. The last loop, for lack of a better term to use, had affected him more deeply than he feared he could handle. He'd felt utterly alone, abandoned. If dying in the arms of his friends had seemed horrible, he now knew that the kind of alone he'd experienced at the hands of the unseen presence was far more horrible than he'd ever imagined – and he had a creative imagination…

_I wonder what it feels like to go bat-shit insane,_ he thought, his internal voice sounding a bit hysterical, even to himself. A handful of equally hysterical courses of action flashed through his mind, only to be discarded willfully. He was growing desperate to stop the loops, to stop the death and pain. But he was also a man with deep reserves of strength, and a profound thirst for life. Pulling himself together with effort, he turned to Teyla.

"Do you remember yet?" he asked through gritted teeth. _Perhaps it was just going to take them a bit longer to remember this time… _

Teyla's look of growing concern was almost too much for John, "Do I remember what, yet?"

"It doesn't matter," John snapped, jamming his sunglasses over his eyes. "We're leaving! McKay, dial the 'gate."

In typical Rodney fashion, he made no move to comply, but stood engrossed in his scanner as Teyla and Ronon stood equally frozen, exchanging alarmed expressions. "Why? There's nothing strange on the scanner, it's as quiet as anywhere we've been in the last 6 months. In fact, something about this place seems almost familiar somehow…" he trailed off, spinning on his heel to scan something behind them in idle curiosity.

"Yes! I know, Rodney. Something familiar. That poignant sense of Déjà vu on steroids. Come ON! Remember already and DIAL THE DAMN 'GATE HOME!" John's voice rose to a near shout, startling McKay away from his interesting readings. Seeing the near panic on John's face, he hastily began moving towards the DHD.

"Ok. Sheppard's 'Danger Will Robinson' alarm is going off, and we're all supposed to hut-hut to attention and run away fast."

John glared from his spot by the Stargate, alternating between fury at McKay's dawdling, and terror at his friends' continued ignorance. He realized how much he had depended on having Rodney to help him puzzle out the solution; on how much he was depending on Ronon and Teyla to help him do whatever had to be done to get the hell home…alive. At least satisfied that Mckay was moving the right direction, John gripped his P-90 tightly in his hands and began to warily scan the forest border, fighting the urge to hide behind Ronon's protective bulk.

McKay was still grousing as he tromped to the DHD, " Elizabeth will be so pleased to see us. 'Hi, back so soon?' Yes, Sheppard got a case of the willies and scrubbed the mission. Oh hey!" With that and a wide smile, McKay snapped his fingers and pointed roughly in Sheppard's direction. "I remember why this planet seems so familiar. It feels just like Proculus. You know: Perfect weather, perfectly blue sky, perfectly cute meadows of flowers. I'll bet the village we aren't going to explore is equally charming. You could be passing up another high priestess encounter..."

Rodney grinned, pleased with his little taunt as he started poking in symbols. "Look. One of the keys is damaged. Good thing we don't need that one…"

A small explosion went off in John's head… _an Ancient? Here? Some sicko ascended being was toying with them?_

Even as John was gasping with the revelation, he felt a powerful surge of insane jealousy sweep through the meadow like a December wind. The sound of a distant gunshot heralded the descent of utter chaos.

The bullet slammed into Rodney's thigh, and he screamed, clutching his leg to collapse in a huddled heap in the grass. Teyla cried, "Rodney!" and darted to his side even as Ronon and John fired in useless cover and moved to flank the wounded scientist. John was panting, barely able to control his shaking hands enough to keep his weapon steady. They had to get out of here. Their only hope was to dial home.

"Teyla, dial the 'gate!" John hissed.

"But…"

"Do it! There's no time to fix him up here." Teyla shakily nodded, patted Rodney on the shoulder lightly, then stood to complete the code he had started.

John continued to Ronon, "The sniper is in the trees. Don't ask me how he does it, but he's got the range and the accuracy to take all of us out. We need to defend the DHD." Ronon nodded, and he and Sheppard stepped shoulder to shoulder between Teyla and the sniper, simply hoping that she could get the 'gate open before the sniper _did_ get them all. At their feet, Rodney was moaning slightly and whining something about mini-vans and keyless remote controls.

Teyla rapidly punched in 3 more of the 7 symbols when another bullet sliced through John's middle, spinning him to the ground nearly on top of McKay. The scream of agony that escaped his lips was more frustration than pain and he snarled at Teyla as she again paused in her dialing to kneel beside him. "Dial, the damn 'gate. It's the only way…" Again she hesitated, but John's desperate eyes held hers and she turned back.

Gulping, he looked up for Ronon, making sure he was still standing at Teyla's back. He was nowhere to be seen. Growling deep in his throat, and wrapping his arms tightly around his stomach he pushed himself to his knees and, squinting into the continuing glare, spotted Ronon at last, pelting across the meadow with all the power and speed of a locomotive. The Satedan's weapon was out and firing blindly into the forest's edges. _Goddam idiot! We have to leave, we have to get out of here…_ John struggled to get to his feet, trying to move himself behind Teyla's unprotected back.

The next shot rent John's heart in two. Teyla's cry of surprise and pain echoed in his mind and fury welled into his eyes as hot tears. Just barely quick enough, John clumsily caught her falling form to gently lower her into the grass. She lay still in rigid tension. Rodney, snapped out of his own pain enough to crawl closer and was reaching for Teyla's neck even as he was digging in his first-aid pocket. John grunted with approval, then fought his way to his feet again. His own arm was sticky and slick with blood. He didn't know if it was his or hers.

Turning to lean heavily on the DHD, he cringed at a fourth snap of gunfire. The distant sound of Ronon's weapon ceased abruptly. John's whole body was shaking and his teeth were chattering. He was going into shock, but the physical pain was only secondary to the anguish of watching his friends suffer, helpless to do anything but push every ounce of his will towards dialing home. Somehow everything would work out if he could just…dial…home…

John's trembling hand pressed one key, then another. The last two symbols were engaged and he reached for the glowing bulb at the center of the device that would activate the Stargate and establish a connection to Atlantis.

A final bullet slammed into his back, shattering the vertebrae and driving bone and lead deep into his heart. John fell against the console and slid to the ground, already dead, already doomed, yet still reaching for the globe.

"Sheppard?" Rodney's voice was terrified and thick with pain.

"John?" John almost smiled at Teyla's hoarse plea. She was alive.

He landed with a flop on his back, his death-locked eyes fixed before him. He could only see blue sky and white clouds, and even that was growing dim. _An Ascended being? _He thought lazily, feeling the utter peacefulness of his body and allowed himself the selfish hope that he would stay dead this time. But he suddenly knew what he had to do. It wouldn't save him, but he just thought he might be able to save the others.

The dim sky faded to utter black and John's mind whimpered.

He was afraid.

* * *

_Siren_ raged as she held the man's life over the edge of death. Winds and storms pummeled her planet with the expression of her fury and her villagers huddled in their huts, praying to their insane God and begging in equal parts to either stop her fury or to let them die in it. 

She had miscalculated. She had underestimated the man's sense of duty to his friends. Instead of suffering with them, the man had thrown his whole effort into saving them and had nearly managed to dial the Portal. It was not how she wished to play, for the taste of self-sacrifice and desperate resolve was bitter with the spice of her own, unrecognized, shame.

She was not, technically, supposed to prevent mortals from leaving her planet and she shuddered at her punishment were she to actually interfere directly with the Portal or its dialing device. However, she used her power over nature and the villagers to easily prevent most captives from even considering escape. Of those who did, none had before come so close to freedom. But these mortals were infuriatingly tenacious.

She flung another Tsunami from her ocean into the shore of the continent, thousands of miles from the meadow.

At long last, she grew weary from her tantrum and with the effort of repairing all four of the human mortals. The storms settled into brooding fogs and drizzles, and she brooded over the meadow with the man's life in her hands. He healed slowly.

With growing regret, _Siren_ decided that she would have to let him go. He was too strong, and yet, it was that strength that inexplicably excited her. He had pleased her, and now his reward would be granted.

Taking special care for her last game, she reset the stage. Caressing the man one last time, she sighed and dwelt with surprise on the feeling of sorrow she felt for him, even as her anticipation began to grow. He suffered so beautifully, this one…

He would suffer for her once more, and she would make it last for a time worthy of his strength. And then, if he pleased her – if his pain was sweet and delicious – she would honor him.

She would allow him to die.


	6. Chapter 6

_And now, the conclusion of our story... _

John Sheppard stepped out of the shimmering Stargate, took a single, deliberate step further and planted his hands on his hips. With a deep shuddering breath he scanned the horizon, squinting in the bright clear sunshine, and then turned his head slightly at the _splut_ of sound behind him. Rodney McKay emerged, muttering as usual, and moved to stand off to Sheppard's right. Their two shadows stretched out long before them, and John twisted to look back over his shoulder at the glowing orange orb that peeked out just above the rim of the still shimmering 'gate. The ground at John's feet was dewey and cool, despite the growing warmth of the air, and the pale blue sky had a crystal freshness about it.

_God, I hate this place, _he thought, fighting the urge to laugh manically and shoot himself in the head. Instead, he fiddled in his pocket, drawing out his sunglasses as Ronon and Teyla soon stepped up next to him, taking their own careful survey of the perimeter. Still outwardly calm, John brought the shades to his eyes and froze as the sunlight streaming over his shoulder reflected on the bent and twisted frame, the cracked lenses. His hands shook violently for a moment, then he shakily put the glasses back in his pocket.

McKay was wandering around in little circles, waving his hand scanner around. "You sure we've never been here before? Seems really familiar somehow…"

"Is that right." John's voice was soft and strangled.

Ronon was shifting restlessly at John's left shoulder, either remembering or just picking up on the tension John knew he must be radiating like toxic waste. "McKay's right. I recognize the tree line and the way the path enters the forest."

"You don't say." John hung his head for a long moment, kicking a shoe into the damp grass and crushing a delicate purple flower into unrecognizable pulp -- gathering his courage. He was well aware of Teyla's concerned gaze upon him. He didn't look at her for a long time, but when he finally stilled his feet and met her gaze, his face was cold and firm with determination. The sound of her crying out as she fell by the DHD was something he remembered all too well. He would not allow that to happen again.

"Well then." John took a single step forward, clutching at his weapon for security. "We should get the hell out of here. McKay," he interrupted the voluble scientist's protest even before it started, "shut it. I'll dial the 'gate. You all…wait here." He felt deceitful as he left the warm circle of puzzled friends, but he was almost certain that they would not be harmed if they stayed away from the DHD. He just hoped they wouldn't try to dial out themselves until he'd had a chance to finish his part of the job. If he was successful, then they could leave in…well, perhaps not _peace_. But they could leave.

He licked his lips nervously as he hurried towards the DHD. He didn't expect to make it that far. A few more steps flowed under his feet and he broke out in a cold sweat. Angrily, he tried to control the panic that was compelling him to run away as far as he could go. Then he swallowed the worry that anger would only keep him from his task. A few more steps passed.

The first bullet slammed into his thigh, dropping him to one knee with a surprised grunt, twisting him slightly to the left. The second bullet, hard on the heels of the first, ripped through the soft flesh of his side and kept going, deep into his belly.

_So this is a bit different,_ John thought distractedly as he doubled over and dropped to plant his face in the grass. He'd been expecting another chest wound. Some small part of his mind was pleased that he hadn't tried to rush the DHD as a group again. There were clearly two snipers in the forest today.

The shock-induced detachment was quickly overwhelmed by utter torture as his friends reached his fallen body. Teyla was hastily pushing him over with concerned shouts and panicky queries. John let escape a screaming howl of pain at the movement and was suddenly terrified that it was too much -- there was too much pain to do it. He needed to be calm, to concentrate, but the belly wound was more excruciating than anything he'd yet endured. _Who the hell knew THAT could ever happen,_ he thought desperately, trying to control himself.

A sudden thought brought a surge of resolve. "Ronon!" he gasped.

The Satedan was just shifting his snarl of rage towards the forest line.

"Stay here. Need you here." His words were barely a growl.

"Sheppard, I can…"

John could see the desperation on his friend's face, the need to be DOING something that was so comfortingly familiar. He didn't have the strength to explain. "That's…an… order." Ronon would have his chance.

Gritting his teeth, John lifted his head. Ronon had moved to stand in a protective tower between the group on the ground and the forest, but he was there. John flopped his head down and groaned again, a long exhale of released anguish. Through squinted eyes, he watched his friends hovering over him, efficient in their care, their worry and fear clearly showing in their expressive faces, but not allowing it to hamper their work. Their completely useless, hopeless work. He knew they couldn't save him. He didn't want them to…

Teyla was digging in her first-aid pocket, but with a surprised look, came up empty and exclaimed to Rodney who was on the other side, awkwardly pressing John's shoulder into the ground against his current tendency to try to roll over back onto his face. "I have no field compresses, my pocket is empty."

Rodney quickly flipped up his own pocket's flap. "Mine too."

Already scrabbling at John's own vest, Teyla pulled out one of the tightly folded, absorbent pads. She was slapping it into the gaping hole in his side even as she snapped the command, "Give me all of your compresses, Ronon."

Two also-neatly folded bandages dropped lightly onto John's chest. Rodney snatched for one and began clumsily wrapping it around John's bloody thigh.

John began to shiver with shock, and he felt McKay's hands on his shoulders again. _This is taking too damn long!_ He snarled in the privacy of his terrified mind. _It's taking too long to die. It hurts too damn much, and it's taking too damn long._ He growled a deep, low sound of frustration, burying his face in his hands. His teeth began to chatter, too.

"Sheppard?" Rodney's voice was equally low, unusually concerned. John cracked his eyes open and dropped his arms. Their eyes met and held for a long, uncomfortable moment.

Then John closed his eyes.

"McKay. Whatever happens to me, get to the 'gate when the time comes," he whispered.

* * *

Rodney couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly, horribly wrong. He'd seen Sheppard injured before. Hell, he'd even seen Sheppard _die_ before…and where had _that_ thought come from? But something, now, was wrong with the way the man lay on the ground, avoiding their eyes. 

As he clumsily tied Ronon's field compress around Sheppard's bloody leg, he shot quick glances at the Air Force Colonel's face. The man was shivering with shock. He buried his face in his hands and grunted in frustration. Not in pain, although Rodney could tell there was incredible pain, but…frustration. _He's not fighting! He expected this, he's just waiting it out?_ Thought McKay, suddenly frightened by what could cause Sheppard, of all people, to give up.

"Sheppard?" Rodney's voice was low, unusually concerned. Teyla was still frantically distracted, trying to control the more serious abdominal wound. John cracked his eyes open and dropped his hands away from his face. Their eyes met and held for a long, uncomfortable moment.

Sheppard's mind was blank, unreadable. Only a strange, quiet plea for Rodney to stay with him – for a little while – whirled in the cold depths.

Then John closed his eyes.

"McKay. Whatever happens to me, get to the 'gate when the time comes," he whispered.

"Sure, sure. Of course." McKay felt desperate to say anything that Sheppard wanted to hear. He couldn't bear the suffering acceptance he was seeing from the man he expected to go out screaming and kicking, or at the very least with a sarcastic remark. Actually, he'd never expected the man to go out at all.

Sheppard started mumbling to himself soon after. His body still shivered with the effects of shock, but John's face seemed contorted in concentration. Rodney leaned close to throw more of his weight against John's shoulders during a particularly violent shudder. He caught some of the mumbled words… and froze with a concentration of his own. His mind flashed recognition and then exploded with memories, the impact of the visions almost palpable.

He suddenly knew exactly what Sheppard was trying to do. _Holy cow, Sheppard really is insane, _he thought. It was a solution more drastic than McKay had ever seen the man attempt. Thinking for a moment more, he began fumbling again in his first-aid pocket, ultimately coming up empty.

"Teyla! My morphine is gone. Give me yours." At the very least, he could maybe help the insane man out a little, Rodney had decided.

Teyla was nearing tears as she was reaching the end of her abilities to help John. She shook her head as if she'd already considered the option, then drew herself together, making a command decision. "John doesn't like it. He won't take it. We need to get him out of here, we need to dial the 'gate."

"_John_ needs it if he's really going to try what I think he's going to try. And we won't make it out of here alive, either, if he fails."

A spring-loaded ampoule dropped lightly from above onto John's chest for Rodney to snatch up and jam into the man's uninjured thigh. "McKay?" Ronon growled.

"He's trying to ascend! He's going to try to ascend. I think the being that's been keeping us here, that's been torturing Sheppard over and over, is an Ancient. Sheppard's going to try to fight it on it's own turf." McKay leaned over John's face again to watch the narcotic's effect take place. "Trust me, Sheppard, it's hard enough to do without pain…" Rodney whispered.

Teyla and Ronon simply stared, frozen in disbelief. Finally, Teyla shook her head aggressively and also leaned over to John. Her voice sounded sharp and pleading. "John, no. Don't do this. We'll get you home." She turned to Ronon and stood ungracefully to her feet. "I'll dial the 'gate, you carry John." And she took a step towards the DHD.

Rodney shouted a warning, just as a blast of wind slammed into their faces. Grass, flowers and trees whipped wildly about in the gale, and they all squinted, shielding their eyes from the small bits of debris flying about. Teyla tried to take another step and was all but blasted backwards several feet. Ronon stood leaning into the wind, his neck muscles standing out in strings with the effort of trying to move forward even a single inch. He too stumbled backwards, panting.

"It's no use! You'll never make it to the DHD" Rodney had to scream over the howling air to be heard.

"It's up to Sheppard!" he added, patting the man awkwardly. John lay as if dead, but McKay still saw the strain of concentration on his face. Teyla's shoulders sagged, and she dropped to her knees in defeat, taking John's other hand. The wind lessened a bit, but continued to swirl around them – a reminder and a warning.

"We are here for you, John," Teyla murmured, barely audible over the noise.

"Yeah. You can do this. Hey, I almost did it once. Can't be that hard, now. Can it?"

Ronon knelt by John's head, "Sheppard. You're crazy. Go kick some ass."

* * *

_This is taking too damn long!_ _It's taking too long to die. It hurts too damn much, and it's taking to damn long._

John tried to relax, tried to concentrate, but even as the world around him faded, his mind and body continued to scream at him. _It hurts too…much. _He'd counted on a quick kill shot. The damn sniper had been pretty efficient all those other times. He shuddered violently at the memories of feeling his life fading away, and almost envied the sensation. _It's taking too damn long_.

A new, sharp but short, sting in one of his legs puzzled him briefly until John realized his body wasn't hollering quite as loudly, and that he was feeling warm and drowsy. "_Trust me, Sheppard_…" He drifted in the warmth for a while, trying to relax, without trying too hard and defeating the purpose.

John had no real idea of how to do what he wanted to do. And the fact that he really didn't want to do it would probably end up being a real problem, he admitted. But he sank further into the warmth, and his body fell further away from him. _Can't hurt if I'm not in it,_ he thought reasonably, and moved away a bit more. It didn't feel like dying at all. Dying was fading into nothingness, or at least passing through a barrier of nothingness -- he'd yet to see the other side.

But this, this felt like growing into everythingness. It was, well, fascinating! John took another curious step away from his body.

He cast his mind around this new everythingness and found that a new sense of body was forming, too. His hands for example: they were molecules and atoms of air and he waved them around experimentally, watching some trees at the edge of the meadow bend and twist in response with eyes that were no longer eyes, but receptors for every kind of energy and data he wished to see. He could see light itself, winking between particles and waves as it moved through time-space. _Oh, McKay would totally love this!_ He thought, meaning to follow it for a while.

A sharp tug held him back, and he felt a web of remaining fine threads of his life still connecting him to his body that still lay dying in a sunny morning meadow. Uncertain, he turned back to examine the threads. Some were red with blood and pain and he shied away from them, stretching them to near breaking. But there were others – one connected to a soft hand holding his, another to a firm and comforting touch on his arm, a third to a rumbling familiar voice – that held him.

John hesitated in the betweenness, struggling to remember something he was certain was important…

* * *

_Siren_ circled the confused man slowly at a wary distance. How had he come to be here? 

Never had she known a mortal who knew what ascension was, much less attempted it. She'd felt new life enter her plane, but she'd never known any of those very rare successful beings as mortals. A shudder of disgust ran through her – her kind never tolerated ascension in their own galaxies.

She was wary, and perhaps a bit frightened, so she continued to circle while the man discovered himself.

* * *

Sheppard's body relaxed further under Rodney's watchful gaze, and with sudden concern, he felt at John's neck for a pulse. It was either non-existent, or so slow as to be undetectable. Slapping his forehead in self-rebuke, he yanked out his palm scanner, poking at the display to ask it to detect life signs. 

"Is it working?" Ronon asked, direct as usual. Teyla seemed to have decided that meditating with John was appropriate, and she sat with her head quietly bowed, John's hand in her lap.

"Yeah, I'm picking up all four of us on the LSD. Sheppard's dot seems…faint…somehow, but it's still there."

"I mean… is it working." Frustrated, Ronon waved his hand over Sheppard's perfectly motionless form.

"I don't know. He's still here, I mean physically still here. No glowy disappearing act yet. I…just don't know." He ran his hand through his hair. "Try the DHD again."

Ronon narrowed his eyes at McKay, then shrugged. He got no further than standing before a vicious gust toppled him down into the grass again. Looking like he'd planned to sit in exactly that spot anyway, Ronon pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. He ruffled Sheppard's hair affectionately. "Not yet, Sheppard. Keep trying."

* * *

John was still hesitating, confused, when he became aware of the other presence. Wary himself, he turned, searching for the other. 

Siren slowly moved closer, and John became aware of her name as she revealed herself to him. Suddenly amused, he chuckled at her image of herself as a beautiful woman, luring men to her trap. "Who does that make me? Odysseus?" He sensed her annoyed confusion. "He was the one that got away," John informed her.

Siren grinned a sultry smile. "You wish to leave? When you have come so far to join me?"

John shuddered. "I'm not here to join you. I'm here to stop you."

Siren laughed, the sound beautifully horrible. "Try."

Still chuckling, she twirled up a waterspout out of her ocean, a thousand miles high and sent it tearing across the sea towards a remote coastal village of fishermen. John gasped and reached to shield the small, delicate homes with his own hands, but the threads that still held him to life twanged, jerking him short with a painful bite. The water gouged a great bay out of the coast that had once been smooth.

Tangled in the threads, John glared at Siren, panting with a growing hatred.

"Perhaps you wish to loosen your bonds?" she purred.

"No!!!"

* * *

In the meadow, the wind suddenly whipped into a howling frenzy. McKay and Teyla threw themselves over Sheppard's body, protecting it from the hail of sharp sticks and even rocks that were pelting all of them with stinging blows. 

"We've got to find shelter!" Rodney screamed, starting to panic at the assault.

"Where?!!" Ronon was at a loss. The forest was too far, there were no other structures but the Stargate for yards around them.

"Let's move to the Stargate. If we lean against the ring, we will be protected from at least one side." Teyla's calm assessment encouraged McKay and he nodded.

Struggling against the wind, they bent to lift Sheppard's limp form, carrying his weight between them. Step by staggering step they were able to make slight progress. The storm continued to prevent them from getting closer to the DHD, but it seemed not to really care if they moved elsewhere. The buffeting gusts were hindrance enough.

Heads bent against the wind and eyes almost shut to keep out the blowing grit, the struggling group didn't notice the large, devastatingly heavy boulder that dug itself out of the ground nearby and flung itself over their heads.

* * *

"No!!" Yelled John, and he lunged for the boulder, batting away the enormous projectile with his own gust of weaker and less controlled winds. Several threads twanged…and snapped with sharp stings as he stretched.

"Idiot!" Shrieked Siren as the boulder wobbled clumsily in John's hands towards the DHD. She slapped the rock away, inches before it crushed the valuable device, sending it instead deep into the forest with a crumbling crash. "Do you not realize the punishment for interfering with a portal?" For a moment she raged with righteous fury, her winds that still pummeled the planet as intense, but no longer focused or controlled.

John cringed as she railed, but watched closely as the group in the meadow suddenly bolted, uninhibited, to the Stargate and pressed their backs against its solid bulk. How odd it was to see himself carried along like so much deadweight. He allowed a small smile in relief – they couldn't have chosen a better spot to shelter, for he could sense Siren's genuine fear in challenging the Stargate itself.

A sudden idea took hold. "I guess I am new here," he answered her with mocking deference. "You mean I shouldn't do… this?" With clumsy quickness, he sent his mind to the DHD and began to punch keys, hope soaring as they lit at the touch of his invisible fingers. Maybe she'd be too afraid of hurting the device to throw anything its way and stop him.

"You are new here," Siren whispered, deadly soft. She lashed out directly at John instead, the spears and knives of her mind raking across his fresh and unfinished consciousness with searing slashes.

John screamed, and the echo of his pain vibrated along the threads to his body on the ground…

* * *

Ronon and Teyla dropped Sheppard's body in a heap beneath the Stargate, then split smoothly again into the roles they habitually filled. Teyla hastily rechecked Sheppard's sopping and now-nearly useless bandages. Ronon stood protectively through the ring, watching for more flying dangers and leaning constantly into the wind that continued to prevent movement towards the DHD. He alone had finally noticed the flying boulder and its erratic disappearance. Had it not veered suddenly away, he'd been prepared to try to blast its bulk into smaller, and hopefully less dangerous, pieces. 

McKay sat with his back against the ring itself, poking at his scanner. "This storm is no coincidence, something is going on up there and I'm betting Sheppard is right in the middle of it."

"We got a break we shouldn't have," Ronon growled in agreement, thinking of the boulder.

Just as he finished the thought, the chevrons on the Stargate came to life of their own accord. First one, then another of the glowing coordinates locked into place, cheerful lights chasing around the otherwise dark metal. The team all turned towards the 'gate, startled, then Rodney let out a cheer.

"Yes! It's definitely Sheppard! Sheesh, how is he doing that and still hanging around in his body too? Ronon, get over here and…"

Sheppard's utterly still and seemingly lifeless body suddenly seized into rigid shudders, his back and thighs quivering as they arched off the ground. Teyla and McKay leaped to prevent the tremors from damaging the body further. Teyla crooned a ragged litany of reassurances.

The seizure and tremors ceased as abruptly as they started, returning him to lifeless flaccidity once again. McKay sat back cautiously, panting from the exertion and terror of the alarming episode. Teyla remained leaning heavily over John, also breathing rapidly and desperately caressing his shoulder. When she finally lifted her head, she met McKay's eyes.

"I guess, maybe, he wasn't supposed to do that." Rodney hypothesized uncomfortably, waving his hand over his head at the now quiet Stargate.


	7. Chapter 7

John huddled around himself, cringing away from Siren as she circled him. His brash confidence had slipped under the torture of her attack, and he was uncertain what to do next. She was more powerful than he, more experienced. And he clung to the handful of threads that still tied him to his body with the tenacity and terror of a small child holding a beloved toy, even as he realized that they were also holding him back from his full potential on this plane -- and his full ability to fight.

Siren moved closer again and he could hear her humming to herself. He shuddered in disgust. He could feel her pleasure at his pain, and he struggled to force it down, denying her. She chuckled at his effort and John could almost see the twisted future she was just realizing. He could feel her desire for him growing.

Playfully, she reached out to invade his mind, looking to enjoy the lingering aches she knew he still felt. John threw up his hand, shielding himself weakly and they struggled together for a moment. Smiling, she withdrew, and John dropped the shield, shaking from the effort.

"So," he panted, letting his mouth run as was his habit when he was terrified, "Not supposed to mess with the 'portal'. Any other nifty rules I should know about? And please don't tell me that killing you is off the table, because I'll just take my crayons and go home if you do."

"You will learn, in time. And you cannot kill that which never lived."

"I'm not _that_ up on my Ancient history, but I do know that all of you who ascended were mortal once. Kindof how I got the idea to come here, in fact. Kindof thinking it was a really terrible idea…" He muttered the last to himself.

Siren was incensed, "You DARE accuse me of being Ancient?!!! Those weak and ideological blasphemers are no kin of mine. _MY_ kind will rule all galaxies, and when they do, I will be set free to feed upon the pain of mortals again." Siren drew herself into indignant wrath, and the winds swirled again in random wildness. Madness flashed in her eyes at the release of temper.

Below in the meadow, John saw Ronon take a single step towards the DHD as Siren raged, and then freeze again as she brought herself under control. What had she meant by _her_ kind? Was she held captive here? Damn he hoped so… Another idea was beginning to take shape.

"So…so sorry. My mistake. _Not_ Ancient, got that too. What about the mortal part?"

"My parents were ascended. I came to be as I am."

"You ever meet any of your neighbors? There are a few like you around. Well, not like you exactly. But, Ascended I mean. Yet, if you don't like Ancients, you probably wouldn't like…her."

Siren frowned, and John braced himself, hoping she was as jealous as she was insane. "There is another bound Ascended on Proculus. She hides on her rock and mourns for the mortals. She actually _tends_ to them." The disgust in Siren's voice was evident and extreme. "The power she wastes is abominable!"

"Oh, well." John shrugged and continued as if he hadn't heard Siren. "I liked her. Real nice woman, we became quite close actually."

Siren was growing hot with jealousy, and John opened his mind to her, just a bit, to flaunt the friendship and…other things…he had shared with Chaya. He hastily went on, deliberately trying to push her buttons, wondering why, when she seemed so unstable and mercurial, that now of all times she held her temper in check. "And then there were a few other friends of mine who ascended just recently. Actually, they weren't Ancients at all, so you might like them. When I finish here, I think I'll go look some of them up, say Hi. You meet anyone named Teer? Avrid? Hedda?"

"You will stay!" Siren snarled the command, and ceased her circling. John felt her gather herself.

"No, thanks. Got other plans. The invitation to eternal damnation and suffering is tempting though. Maybe some other time."

Siren pounced and John was ready, if unqualified, to defend himself. He flung up his shield, and her blows fell upon it, pressing him into the fabric of the universe with forceful tension. He gritted his teeth with the effort of repelling her attack, but she still held her anger in check and he growled in frustration. "Is that all you've got?"

With a savage strike, Siren broke through John's weak defenses and dove into his mind, searching for his memories of Chaya and Teer. He felt her jealousy grow at his genuine affection for them. He gathered himself for one last taunt, hoping it would throw her over into rage, "They're both more powerful than you know, more powerful than you could ever be! Their kindness is their power!"

With a shriek, she slashed at his mind with razor-claws and threw him from her. The few remaining threads to his mortal life stretched and frayed and he snatched for them, holding them tightly in his bare hands, feeling them slipping ever so slightly as Siren's temper was released at last.

Howling with fury, Siren stalked John, slashed again and cried out in furious joy when he grunted with the pain of her assault. John cringed again, hindered by his grasp on the threads from fleeing or striking back. Trembling, he tried to reform the shield, and Siren laughed, bending for another blow.

"Ronon… go!" whispered John.

* * *

Ronon stood leaning into the wind. Waiting. He was not sophisticated in his understanding of the Ancestors, or the whole ascension thing, but he understood combat strategy. And he understood Sheppard. If Sheppard were prevented from dialing the 'gate himself, he would distract or lure the enemy away long enough for someone else to do it. He knew Sheppard would do this because it's what he would do. 

For an instant, the resistance seemed less determined, and Ronon took a single step forward. But the wind returned, and so Ronon continued to wait.

When another, sudden storm swirled up around the meadow, Ronon prepared himself, his heart hammering excitedly. Such was the tension of his frame that when the gale in his face finally faltered, Ronon shot forward like an arrow out of a bow. He was at the DHD before the others even felt the difference and began slamming his hands into the symbols. The storm continued escalating around him, but he braced himself and completed the code.

"Move away! I'm activating the Stargate," he yelled into the shrieking noise of wind and flying debris.

Teyla and McKay scrambled to haul Sheppard's body the few feet away they needed to be safe from the 'gate's initializing vortex. Afraid to wait any longer as the wind grew fiercer, Ronon leered with a ferocity of his own… and slapped the glowing globe.

* * *

John felt the thrum of power as the Stargate activated, its energies affecting and drawing somehow from this plane as well as its own. Feeling a surge of weary triumph, he glared at Siren who stood frozen in irate surprise. "Those _mortals_ are more powerful than you'll ever be," he said quietly, shakily holding up the three remaining threads in his hand. 

Enraged, she smashed him aside to lay in a soul-bruised heap.

"But they are still mortal," she replied, her voice dripping with vengeance.

John gasped as he saw her draw back for a killing strike. He threw himself in her path, laying his consciousness tightly around his team, using his very body to deflect Siren's wrath. She shrieked at him, and sliced into his mind, over and over with devastating agony. He felt the threads vibrate with his anguish, even as they slipped further through his shaking palm. But his team, his friends, only needed a few more seconds – a few more steps – a few more millimeters of thread.

Siren ceased her clawing and yanked on John's mind, pulling him up to look at her. "You are new here," she breathed. "You do not yet know that even the ascended…can die!"

"Go…screw…yourself," John panted, closing his eyes. He lay calmly in the betweenness, waiting for Siren's blow, almost amused at the thought of facing the nothingness again – from here.

When she shrieked again, he was unable to suppress a tremble of terror, then the shriek faded and he felt like he was suddenly moving very fast, pulled along by the threads in his hand that he held by mere molecules of thought.

When John stopped moving, everything was very quiet. He was very alone. He lay in the betweenness with his eyes closed. Even his half-formed consciousness was exhausted and he drifted for a time until his tightly clenched hand began to ache with the effort of holding onto his life. In sudden terror, he felt the last thread slip loose and he grabbed for it with a desperate lunge. His hand closed tightly and he started to fall, willingly giving up ascension for the chance, however slim, to live again. Darkness rose up to envelope him in its chilled embrace, and he fell further still.

Even then, he didn't know on which side of the knife-edge of death he would land.


	8. Chapter 8

The wind howled, more furious than they'd yet seen, as Ronon struggled towards Teyla and McKay who were floundering with Sheppard's body. He'd made it perhaps halfway when the air around him suddenly ceased, supremely calm. Ronon could still see the trees and grass whipping wildly further off in the meadow, but the path to the Stargate was clear. With a wide grin, Ronon dashed to the others.

"We've got to take Sheppard's body too," Rodney was panting, out of breath with the exertion. "He hasn't ascended fully."

Ronon shrugged. Of course they were going to take him. He reached down and wrapped his arms around Sheppard's chest, lifting him easily and leaving the legs for McKay and Teyla. He grunted, balancing his weight, and took a step backwards, so near the shimmering event horizion that Ronon could feel the characteristic tingle of its energy beckoning him. His job suddenly became much harder when at that instant Sheppard's body seized again and began flopping wildly in shuddering tension. Ronon faltered, then with a heave, threw himself and his burden backwards into the 'gate, pulling the others along as they hung on to John's feet.

He tumbled into the strangely quiet and beautifully sterile Gateroom on Atlantis, falling in a controlled heap and managing to protect Sheppard's head and still feebly twitching shoulders. Teyla and Rodney stumbled through only a moment later, passing him by a few inches with the force of their momentum. Ronon heard quiet cheers quickly mutate into concerned gasps and mutters as the welcoming Atlantians took in the condition of the new arrivals.

Sheppard's SOs stationed at the 'gate were quickly beside him, offering a hand up and gently tugging their badly wounded C/O further into the room.

Ronon wobbled unsteadily into a crouch, then dropped back onto one knee. He felt terrible. The kind of terrible he hadn't felt since he'd run from the Wraith for a solid week without sleep or food. He watched dully as the SOs ran through basic first-aid procedures, then gratefully turned Sheppard over to a medical team that arrived on the scene. One man, a newer recruit had who seemed quite in awe of the Colonel, was shaking his head with a horrified expression.

Shoving his concern for Sheppard aside, Ronon looked around finally to check on Teyla and McKay. The Athosian was sitting in an ungraceful sprawl not far from John, looking as bad as Ronon felt. Dr. Weir was squatting next to her, patting her shoulder encouragingly with an expression so torn between relief and concern and desperate curiosity that Ronon actually chuckled. He turned his head to find McKay and felt another jolt of worry – the scientist was lying full out on the floor, nearly unconscious, with another pair of med techs hovering over him.

"Sir, can I help?" A young doctor approached him confidently, the question no more than a formality as his manner indicated he would be checking Ronon out no matter what he answered.

"I'm fine. Help Sheppard."

"The Colonel is getting the best care, I promise you. He's nearly ready to move to the infirmary. That…wound isn't bothering you?"

Ronon looked at the doctor with confusion, then followed the man's gaze to his own chest. A small hole and a large stain of dark, dried and stiffened blood spread across the loose fabric of his shirt. Feeling a bit ridiculous, Ronon wildly patted his chest and torso, sighing with relief when he felt no holes or damage in his skin. Why hadn't he noticed that before?

A sudden, overpowering rush of memory came crashing in upon him and with a gasp, he fell off his knee to sit with his face buried in his hands. He remembered the shot that made the hole, he remembered lying in the grass in furious impotence as more bullets passed over his head towards Sheppard. He remembered Sheppard dying, again and again. And he remembered…not remembering. The shame and horror overwhelmed him.

Dr. Weir's voice reached him through the palpable visions. "Ronon, they've taken the others to the infirmary. You should go now too." Ronon liked how Dr. Weir could always find that balance in her voice between command and concern.

Instead of agreeing, he lifted his head to find her watching him closely. "How long?" he grunted.

For a moment she looked like she might not answer, or was so surprised by the question she wasn't sure if she should. At last she just nodded. "Four days. You've been gone for just over four days."

* * *

The second McKay recovered enough to come to his wits, he began bellowing for Zelenka and for news of Sheppard. Zelenka arrived, the open relief on his expression only dimmed by the smile on his face, in time to hear a much harassed nurse reporting that the Colonel was about to be moved from surgery into recovery and that the abdominal and leg wounds had been repaired successfully. The damage had been extensive, but luckily had missed vital organs. McKay only shook his head worriedly. 

"Radek!" he pounced as the nurse left them, "Go get that ascension device that I used before. We need to get it on Sheppard."

"You mean the machine that altered your DNA?"

"No, no! Stop grinning like a fool and listen to me. The modified EEG, the one that monitors brain activity. Go!" Radek was too happy to be offended, so he scurried off, leaving McKay to struggle out of his bed and wander around the infirmary in search of the rest of his team, dragging his IV pole along with him. He found them nearby, sitting up restlessly in their own beds, looking as exhausted and worried as he felt. They too, were fiddling with wires and tubes. Apparently the being that had held and befuddled them for 4 days had sustained their bodies to the degree needed for its games, but all were suffering the effects of dehydration, malnutrition and exhaustion.

Rodney still felt exhausted, from more than loss of sleep. They were all also feeling extremely unsettled by the memories that had returned to them, the ordeal they'd endured being even more horrible for the manner in which their minds had been tampered with. Suddenly timid, McKay just nodded to Teyla, allowing the worry to show in his eyes, and sat down at the edge of the bed to wait silently with them.

Only a few comfortable minutes had passed when Elizabeth entered from another corner of the infirmary and strode purposefully towards them. She stopped at a respectful distance and smiled an encouraging, worried smile. She took a deep breath.

"John's in recovery, he survived the surgery and... if all goes well, he shouldn't have any long-term repercussions." She hesitated briefly, looking at her feet.

"But." Ronon prompted, impatient.

"But, he's been in a coma since you returned."

She seemed about to go on when Rodney interrupted brusquely, spotting Zalenka enter from across the room, burdened with an armful of wires and equipment. "He might not actually be in a coma. He might still be trying to ascend."

Elizabeth, was taken aback. "How exactly…what do you…he's what?" The usually unflappable Dr. Weir was wearily speechless.

"We'll…try to explain everything later, but right now, we have to hook him up to the EEG device to know for sure. We…" and he paused, looking at the worried faces of his team around him, "we need to know."

A short time and a lot of arm twisting later, Teyla, Ronon, and McKay sat around Sheppard in the recovery room as Zalenka finally got the EEG device active. Leaning forward intently, Rodney studied the readouts as the data began to flow across the screen. He gave a low whistle. "Will you look at that. He's there. He's doing it. He could ascend…if he wanted to."

"But he didn't? Isn't? I mean…?" Ronon was still confused about the whole thing.

"I don't know. I haven't seen anything in the Ancient database about anything like this… except, of course, those Ancients that tried what I tried and… Well, there's nothing anywhere about hanging around so long in this state, in any case. He could do it though. He's there." Rodney repeated the comment, his voice tinged with something like admiring jealousy.

"Can he get back?" This time the terse question was from Teyla.

McKay just shook his head, bewildered. "I don't know, and it seems like I've been saying that a lot lately. What I do know is – it helps to have…friends around, when, you know." He shrugged, staring at Sheppard. Teyla nodded with understanding and immediately scooted her chair closer to be able to pat John's hand.

A few, long, agonizing hours of silence passed in the infirmary. Nurses and doctors came and went, along with Elizabeth, who would spend an hour or so at a time waiting, then leave the brooding team to themselves.

Perhaps 8 hours after Ronon dragged John through the 'gate, the whole infirmary was startled by alarms and loud beeps of the monitors surrounding him. John's heart rate spiked into fast arrhythmia, then pounded with frantic intensity. His body seized, much like he had on the planet, and Rodney jostled for position at Sheppard's side along with the nurses and doctors who descended on the rigidly twitching form.

The medical team responded efficiently to the physical symptoms, but Rodney kept his eyes locked on the EEG. The numbers had begun to fluctuate wildly, careening back and forth from the nearly non-existent ascension state to hyper-excited brain activity. After agonizing minutes of tense watching, Sheppard's heart-rate calmed and his body stilled. The medical staff froze as they paused to watch all the monitors, some stepping back to wait, allowing McKay to shoulder his way even closer.

John's eyes fluttered open so quietly, that McKay, still making nervous glances at the EEG readouts, didn't notice until a quiet groan snapped his gaze back to Sheppard's face. Grinning foolishly, Rodney flashed a look at Teyla and Ronon, then leaned over the vacant, light hazel eyes. There was no recognition in their swirling depths – only exhausted confusion, weary hope, and a steel core of determination. Even that was quickly clouded by the realization of deep pain, and the eyes closed tightly before relaxing into unconsciousness again.

McKay forced himself to look at the EEG one last time before sighing deeply in genuine, contented relief. The numbers remained hovering in a healthy sleep state. His grin growing, if possible, even more wide and goofy, he turned to the equally happy faces nearby and wagged his thumb roughly in the direction of Sheppard's chest. "He's back," was all he said.

Teyla patted Rodney joyfully on the arm as Ronon ruffled John's hair, "I knew he'd get bored out there."

John Sheppard was home.


	9. Chapter 9

John was slurping down as much Jello as the nurses would bring him when Elizabeth, closely followed by the rest of his team came chatting and clattering into his wing of the infirmary. Grimacing from the twinges through his still-tender middle as he tried to push himself even more upright, he at last managed a welcoming grin in their direction. As pleased as he always was to see his friends, he'd been dreading this debriefing since he regained consciousness three days ago. The memories and wounds, every pun intended, were still too fresh, too raw.

"They letting you eat yet?" Ronon chuckled as John couldn't resist one more bite of the Jello before pushing his tray away from him. Elizabeth snatched it off his bed and set it neatly on the bedside table.

"Not real food, no." John couldn't keep the slight growl of protest out of his voice, and Ronon laughed again. They had all been catching up on meals, but John's restriction to bland and liquid foods, due to the fact that there were more stitches in his belly than an appliqué quilt, left him feeling constantly hungry.

The rest were eagerly pulling up chairs around the bed and beginning to look excitedly curious. Teyla, Ronon, and Rodney had made their reports to Elizabeth, but, due to John's tendency to nod off during even the shortest of conversations over the last several days, none of them had yet heard his full account. The time during his quasi-ascension was of particular curiosity to McKay, John could tell.

While Teyla and Elizabeth chatted amiably, waiting for everyone to be settled, John couldn't help but feel himself growing more anxious. He'd mentally prepared his report, but usually preferred to write them in privacy. It tended to give him more time to process the experience, and allowed him to take a break for a while if the memories got too close. With a sigh, he realized that maybe he should just look forward to getting it over with, so he could move on to busting out of this place and back to his life.

Life.

As John began the formal debriefing, with Elizabeth as primary audience, he idly wondered to himself if the experience had made him more, or less, afraid of the eventual, hopefully distant, end of his life. He just didn't know, yet. He wouldn't really know until he stepped through the 'gate and faced the dangers of his chosen profession again. He'd known pilots, friends, who'd claimed near-death experiences. One guy had gotten so shaken up, he'd retired and was off somewhere writing some pretty good novels. Another, closer friend, grew so fatalistically jaded that he became reckless. Being already rather reckless himself, John had spent some wildly exciting time with the guy – until he'd accidentally planted his Pavehawk into the side of a mountain, killing himself and his co-pilot.

John's hands began to shake, just a bit, as the debriefing went on and Elizabeth questioned him about the moment he'd realized they weren't time-looping. Ever sensitive, she subtly changed her line of questioning, then took a slight break to pour him a cup of water and herself a cup of coffee from the nurses station. When she returned, he'd regained his composure and forced the image of the bloody DHD out of his mind, for the moment.

"What made you think trying to ascend was the best way to get out of there?" Elizabeth asked, returning to the debriefing. John thought he might have heard just a bit of an accusatory bite in her voice, so he answered as confidently as he could muster.

"We were completely at Siren's mercy, of which she had none. She wasn't allowed to interfere with the Stargate, but she had a hell of a lot of ways to keep us from getting _to_ it -- Up to and including killing all of us off, one by one. She did that once. I couldn't let it happen again," his eyes were locked on Teyla as he spoke the last. Finally he looked down at his own hands. "The only way to stop her was to fight her in her own plane. Otherwise she could have just patched us up, and started over as often as she liked."

Elizabeth just shook her head, resigned to his logic, but looking horrified at the dilemma. John took another sip of his water. Suddenly intent, Elizabeth searched John's face. "Why would…Siren you called her?… do that? Why did she kill you and heal you over and over? What possible purpose could that serve?"

John squirmed, extremely uncomfortable. "She enjoyed it. She got some perverse pleasure out of feeling mortals suffer excruciating pain. I think she even drew power or strength from it somehow."

"What IS it with you and ascended women?" Rodney butted in, with exasperated wonder, "not that I'm complaining that this one didn't single me out for affection this time…"

"She's an Ori!" John snapped, as if that made everything completely different. There was sudden, surprised silence in the room.

"John, are you certain?" Elizabeth's voice was sharp and tense.

He nodded slowly. "She was bound to her planet, imprisoned there I guess you could say. Probably by the ascended Ancients in this galaxy who didn't like her preferred form of…entertainment. When I was there, with her, she was quite clear she had no love for the Ancients."

McKay was tapping his chin thoughtfully, "We do know that the Ori derive power from worshippers. Wouldn't be a big step to assume they could also gain power from other strong emotions."

"And you fought her off!" Elizabeth was clearly trying to look for the positive, even though she was shaking her head at the shock of it all.

"Hardly," John chuckled ironically. "I was no match for her. Especially since I wasn't fully ascended. I had too many ties to my…life, I guess… to actually fight her." He paused, remembering the threads. Shaking off the memory, he went on with a wry smirk. "But I was far enough along to piss her off."

Ronon rumbled in appreciation. "You distracted her. You got her attention away from us at the DHD."

"Yeah," John sighed, sagging into his pillows. His thigh was throbbing and his guts were aching from sitting upright so long. He was nearing even his threshold for tolerating the pain of healing, and he just wanted to gulp down the pretty pink pill sitting on his bedside table and pass out for a few more hours. He continued in a forced murmur, "Siren was insane. When she lost her temper, she lost her control. Once I figured that out, I just pushed her buttons a little and let her pound on me. Once the 'gate was open, she intended to stop you, but I was able to shield you long enough to get through." John looked long and hard at Ronon.

"If you hadn't taken my body with you, she would have killed me for good, even had I been completely ascended."

Ronon nodded, accepting the gratitude. John rolled his head to Teyla. "And thank you for keeping me alive. Siren meant the wound to be slow death. She intended me to die. If you hadn't kept me going, I wouldn't have had a body to return to." This time the shudder reached his shoulders and he averted his eyes, embarrassed.

He felt Teyla's soft hand on his foot. "I only wish we could have done more, sooner."

John shook his head, shrugging off the implied apology. He wouldn't be here without them. He'd borne the brunt of the abuse, but without Teyla's first aid that sustained him, Ronon's quickness and strength that had taken advantage of what little help he'd been able to provide, and Rodney's quirky flashes of insight and memory that had led him to understand what needed to be done, none of them would have made it alive off that damnable planet.

Elizabeth quietly concluded the session, recognizing that John had reached his limits for the moment. She gave his hand a friendly squeeze and walked away briskly, offering a last encouraging wave as she turned into the hall. Teyla and Ronon also patted their farewells, and sauntered away together, quietly chatting.

John relaxed into his bed and pressed his palms into his eyes, scrubbing away the tension and fully intending to sleep. When he dropped his hands and lifted his head to look for the nearby pills, he raised an eyebrow at McKay who still sat stiffly in his chair, bouncing his foot agitatedly and tapping his thumbs together. If John didn't know better, he would have said McKay looked…hesitant to speak what was on his mind.

"What is it Rodney?" John prompted, eager to get to the point and send him on his way.

"I just um, wondered. Well, you know. What was it like?"

"Being ascended you mean?" Rodney nodded.

John narrowed his eyes and thought for a long time on how to answer. Finally, smirking smugly, he said, "McKay, you would have _loved_ it!" While Rodney processed the full implication of the insult, John quickly snatched for his pill, gulped down a swallow of water…and fell instantly asleep.

_Author's Note: Thank you all for the comments and reviews! While this story is definitely much darker and more angsty (not to mention violent) than my usual fare, (I blame those 100 pages of a Dean Koontz novel I shouldn't have read...) I do believe I have actually written my first Mary Sue story! Yes, I admit that I am, in fact, Siren. The idea hit me as I was writing up the very first scene, simply for the pleasure of whumping John Sheppard. It occured to me that I am John's worst enemy, poor baby. What I put him through! So, Siren came to be...with a little poetic liscense and a streak of badass that I could only dream of ever achieving, hee hee. Thanks again..._


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